All The Things You Said
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: a collection of different Sherlolly scenarios based on the 'Things You Said When...' tumblr writing prompts. I do not own the characters; Sir ACD and Moftiss/BBC do!
1. Things You Said In The Back Of A Cab

"So, naturally, he'll be found at a very public area as to rid himself of suspicion. Little does he know, we're on to him," Sherlock grinned at Molly in the back of the cab. He had taken her on another case and she had been happy to oblige but the elephant in the room still stood. The air was a heavy veil of tension. She gave him a wistful smile in reply and turned her head back to look out the window.

Sherlock hadn't a clue what was wrong. He was trying very hard to woo Molly and get back into her good graces after the little game Eurus put them through. He flirted; at least he thought he did. It wasn't dissimilar to that of the time she solved crimes with him when he returned from a two year hiatus. But then again, there was always something Sherlock missed; always one little thing that put him off balance. _Oh_ , he realized.

"Molly?" Sherlock asked, concern lacing his rich baritone voice.

"Hmm?" she replied, still staring out the window. _This will not do_ , Sherlock thought. He took her small hands in his gloved ones. This caused her to finally look up at him.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock told her, raw emotion peeking in his eyes.

"Sherlock, it wasn't your fault. You did what had to be done to save me. Thank you," Molly responded offering a small smile as if to tell him _I'm okay_.

"Yes, well, I haven't been clear about my intentions of inviting you to come along with me today," Sherlock began. "Molly, I think—no—I know I'm in love with you and I'm terrified. I am…out of my element." She was silent for what felt like forever. He was growing more afraid by the minute. "Molly, please say something." His voice was a whisper.

She still said nothing, but tentatively caressed his cheek with her hand, her eyes wide. Slowly, Molly scooted closer and lifted her head to capture his lips ever so gently. They both tasted their longing for one another with each soft brush of their lips. It was, if anything, a real eye opening moment for Sherlock. It was then he knew that he did not ever want to lose this feeling. He no longer felt terrified, but safe in the arms of the woman who mattered most. His Molly.

"Eh, so you two gettin' out or what?" the cabbie asked. They broke the kiss, laughing to themselves. Sherlock paid the fare.

"Come on," Molly said, lacing her fingers through his, "let's go catch a criminal."


	2. Things You Were Afraid To Say

**Author's Note:** WARNING EMPTY HEARSE FEELS ABOUT TO HIT YOU LIKE A BRICK

* * *

How could he ever tell her? How would she ever believe him if he did? There they stood in the stairwell. Sherlock knew his time was running out. He wanted very much to let her hair loose and brush his fingers through it.

 _It's not the fall that kills you…_

No, he mustn't; he shouldn't. He wanted to shout from the rooftops that he had been falling for her, but he was afraid. He settled on saying something else, hoping she'd get the true meaning behind his words.

"Moriarty slipped up, he made a mistake. Because the one person he thought didn't matter at all to me was the one person that mattered the most. You made it all possible."

He wanted her to catch him…but she wouldn't. His crystalline eyes landed on the sentimental bauble adorning her left ring finger.

… _It's the landing._

He felt his heart begin to crack. How had he not noticed before?

"But you can't do this again, can you?" he asked knowingly.

All of the words he wanted to say were kept inside simply because he was afraid to say them. He listened as she rambled on about her betrothed's dog, friends and family.

"I hope you'll be very happy, Molly Hooper." _Even if it's not with me_. "You deserve it." _More than you know_. So he smiles for her. He kisses her cheek, desperately wishing he could touch her lips.

"After all, not all the men you fall for turn out to be sociopaths." He walks away.

* * *

"Maybe it's just my type," Molly says to him but more to herself. She would always love him, she knew. He had invited her for chips. Maybe if she caught up to him now. She walks out the door, putting her gloves over her hands and looks down the street he turned.

Molly watched as he walked in brisk London air, snow flurrying around the city. The choice she makes now would forever alter her life. Follow him, have chips and perhaps have the future she always dreamed of with Sherlock Holmes, her sweet consulting detective. Or she could go the other way and stay at home for the rest of the night, marry Tom and have the perfect life. But what if perfect wasn't what she wanted? Maybe she wanted to have a few domestics here and there. Maybe she wanted to deal with Sherlock's infuriating qualities simply because she loved them.

She considered going after him, taking a tentative step in his direction. She wanted to tell him everything: the way she felt for him and how he makes her feel safe. But Molly was afraid and so she went home, mentally kicking herself. _It's for the best_. She knew it was a lie.


	3. Things U Said As We Danced In Our Socks

**Songs Used (from my own playlist): Galway Girl by Ed Sheeran, Believe by Yellowcard and Fall Into Place by Apartment.**

* * *

Molly had her happy mood playlist blasted at full volume. She was wearing a long thin cotton t-shirt that stopped mid-thigh and a pair of polka dotted fuzzy socks. She was finishing up the dishes when the sound of the door closing caused her to jump. Sherlock Holmes had let himself in, again, probably to use her flat as his personal bolt hole once more. He slipped off his Belstaff, scarf and suit jacket followed by his shoes.

She only turned her attention back to the dishes. He didn't speak a work to her, probably wondering if she was still upset with him. She wasn't but she also did not want to be the first to speak. Molly began moving around her kitchen to the music as she put the dishes away. Sherlock watched her with adoration. He pulled his dress shirt's sleeves up to his elbows and held a hand out to her.

"Molly?" he asked. "Care to dance?" She smiled, thankful he spoke first and that she was getting to dance with him. She took his hand and he laced their fingers together, pulling her closer. They danced together in their socks to the upbeat tune that played from Molly's computer.

 _'She played the fiddle in an Irish band, but she fell in love with an English man. Kissed her on the neck and then I took her by the hand said, "Baby, I just want to dance."'_

"You're light on your feet," Molly smiled.

"You're not so bad yourself," Sherlock smiled back. After a beat, he spoke again. "I take it you're no longer upset with me?"

"No, I'm not. It was a stupid row. I'm sorry," Molly told him.

"No, I'm sorry, Molly. It was an awful thing to say," Sherlock told her. The music switched over to Yellowcard's Believe. A bit out of his element with how exactly to move to this song, Molly noticed his discomfort and took the lead. He was more of a classically trained dancer than anything.

"You're too stiff. You need to loosen up a bit," Molly informed him. "Here, let me show you." She danced on her own for a moment, eliciting a chuckle from Sherlock. "Something funny?"

"It's just…so silly," Sherlock remarked.

"That's the whole point," Molly laughed. "Come on, loosen it up. Here, how about this?" She undid the first two buttons of his dress shirt. They looked like they would pop right off if he stretched the shirt wide enough.

"How does that help?" Sherlock asked.

"It doesn't, really," Molly winked. "Helps me." The song switched over during their banter.

 _'Du du du du du du dudu du dudu So penniless for a dream, I hope I get by today. I want to get to the truth and learn how to gray.'_

"What is this?" Sherlock asked.

"Fall Into Place," Molly replied. "Now, come on dance with me. It doesn't matter if you're awful at it, that's the point." And so they danced through the kitchen and the sitting room. Sherlock finally stopped being so uptight over the matter and actually let himself go. It was some of the most fun he had.

"You're my escape," Sherlock spoke breathlessly.

"What?" Molly asked.

"I can always be myself with you. I mean, well, I am just me when I'm with you. Not Sherlock Holmes the Consulting Detective, but Sherlock Holmes who's real first name is William," he explained. He spun her around and brought her in close. "You're home to me."

"Oh, Sherlock," Molly breathed. Then she jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist to snog him thoroughly. He was so taken aback at first but quickly reciprocated, holding her and kissing her back. They kissed until they collapsed together on the sofa due to Sherlock stumbling over the area rug. The two of them laughed together until their stomachs hurt. This was some of the most fun Molly had too.


	4. Things You Said As I Cried In Your Arms

"Shhh, Molly, please don't cry. I hate it when you cry. I never want to see you sad," Sherlock murmured against her hair. She was sitting on his lap and crying into his shoulder, her hair loose over her shoulders.

"What if you don't come back?" Molly gasped out in sobs, her heart breaking at the prospect of never seeing Sherlock Holmes again. She had helped him fake his death and he hid away at her flat for a week. Tomorrow, he would set out to destroy the rest of Moriarty's network. But tonight, she needed him and he let her.

Sherlock was at a loss for words. He could not promise he wouldn't die, for he had no control over that factor, but he could promise her something else to the same effect.

"Oh, Molly, it'll be alright. I'll try my best to come back as soon as possible," Sherlock comforted her. This is the most sensitivity he had shown her ever since asking for her help.

"What'll I do? If you…you d-d—" she couldn't even speak the word. Something inside him snapped, giving him a renewed feeling of determination.

"You won't have to worry about that. I will come back. I'll come back for you," Sherlock paused. "And John and Mrs. Hudson." This was not a time for his heart to slip through the cracks. She held him tighter, her cries wracking her petite form. He rocked her and let her cry it out.

"I'll miss you," she whispered, "so much." He allowed himself to slip, just this once. Sherlock planted a kiss against the top of her head. This seemed to calm her, so he did it again. And again, until she had looked up at him with her red-rimmed, chocolate brown eyes. He kissed the remaining tears from her face impulsively. Oh, things were getting out of hand now. But he did not give a damn.

"Molly," he quietly spoke. Just her name on his lips; no other woman could ever compare. She stared at him, waiting for the ball to drop. It wouldn't and he'd prove it. _It's now or never_ , he told himself. _What if you never get this chance again?_ The voices in his head were right. So he kissed her soft lips, allowing himself to linger after a few brushes.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked after he broke their kiss.

"I need you to do me one more favor," he told her.

"Anything," Molly replied.

"Move on," Sherlock said simply. "Find your happiness while I'm gone. Be happy, Molly Hooper."

"But—" Molly started.

"No," Sherlock whispered. "Find somebody better for you than me. Promise me."

"How can I if I'll be missing you?" Molly cried. _There's nobody better than you_.

"You're allowed to miss me twenty minutes a day, but after that, hold your head high and live your life," Sherlock told her. "Promise me."

"I…p-promise," Molly gasped out.

* * *

The next morning he took his leave. Molly had thrown her arms around him, whispering only one last thing in his ear.

"Come home to us, Sherlock." She kissed his cheek and then he was gone.


	5. Things You Said In The Dark

**Post-TFP Feels**

* * *

He held her close to him under the duvet, her back against his chest. They were still awake, reliving the passionate outburst they had only thirty minutes ago. Their relationship was still very new; only a few hours new. They had known one another for years though. The aftermath of Eurus's game backfired, as Sherlock never truly lost Molly. She was upset and confused, but not angry. No, she just wanted to see him as soon as the phone hung up. Molly had sensed something was wrong. Everything was explained and he kissed her. Oh, how he kissed her. She had kissed him back, the longing that built up over seven years poured into it. That was how they ended up tangled together.

"Molly," Sherlock whispered, pressing his lips to her neck, just below her ear. She hummed in response, waiting for him to continue. "I love you."

"I love you too, Sherlock," Molly replied, snuggling closer. She took the hand of his that covered her stomach and kissed the scars that were surely going to form from breaking the coffin. She kissed each and every cut and bruise. Both of their eyes welled up with tears though the other couldn't see.

"I'm sorry that's the way you found out. That's not the way I would've told you," Sherlock continued.

"It wasn't your fault," Molly assured him, placing his hand back on her stomach, laying her hand on top of his. "How would you have told me?"

"Never thought about it that much," Sherlock admitted. "I'd have probably ended up snogging you at Bart's." He peppered her jaw and neck with playful quick kisses that elicited laughter from Molly's lips. "Your laugh is beautiful." He turned serious again and nuzzled his nose against the juncture of her shoulder and neck.

"I'm happy with you," Molly told him. "Even when you're acting like an arse, I'm still happy to be around you." Sherlock chuckled at her statement. Another long string of silence washed over them in the darkness of the room.

"You broke my heart once," Sherlock confessed. Molly was so taken aback by his confession, she turned herself around to face him.

"What?" she asked. "When?"

"The day we solved crimes together," Sherlock replied. "It was, in a way, my way of asking you out. We had fun."

"We did," Molly agreed.

"I asked you out for chips too, but you never answered. I noticed your ring for the first time there in the stairwell. I realized you moved on. Though I was happy for you, it hurt me," Sherlock explained. Molly caressed his cheek with her hand and pressed her lips against his.

"It always seems to be bad timing with us, huh?" Molly smiled.

"It seems so," Sherlock agreed.

"Wanna know a secret?" Molly asked.

He nodded.

"You're stuck with me now," she told him.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he replied, kissing her softly until they both fell asleep in each other's arms.


	6. Things U Said In The Back Of The Theatre

Les Misérables was playing on the West End. Sherlock and Molly sat in the back of the theatre, watching Jean Valjean's story unfold. The consulting detective detested the idea at first, but he found it hard to say no when Molly was looking at him in _that way_. You know the look where her chocolate eyes are twinkling at the mere sight of you full of unconditional love and a glimmer of hope. Sherlock Holmes would be damned if he were the one to extinguish the light in her eyes. He refused to disappoint her. So he took her to the theatre dressed in their best formal attire.

"Thank you for taking me," Molly whispered as the second act played out.

"You are quite welcome," Sherlock replied with a quick glance at her.

"It's just, I know this isn't really your scene," Molly continued.

"Molly," Sherlock spoke urgently, causing her to finally look at him. "Honestly, it's my pleasure. I'm enjoying this more than I thought I would."

"I'm glad," Molly smiled at him before they both turned their attention to the stage. Somehow, Sherlock's fingers found themselves laced through hers. He hummed a sound of satisfaction to himself. At one point, Molly's lips found themselves pressing soft, warm kisses to his fingertips. Neither objected so neither of them ceased to stop themselves. Eventually, Molly did discontinue her ministrations.

"Why'd you stop?" Sherlock asked, annoyed at the slight whimper that slid into his voice.

"Did you not want me to?" she asked in return.

"Please, by all means, continue," Sherlock whispered in her ear. He kissed her temple before turning back to the stage. She gave his hand a loving squeeze as her lips once again caressed his fingertips. He closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the feeling of her warmth. "You make me happy, Molly Hooper." He could feel the smile on her lips against his fingers. The rest of the play was watched in contentment and genuine interest. _Theatre's not so bad after all_ , Sherlock thought.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I had a bit of writer's block with this one lol but I hope you enjoyed it! :)


	7. Things You Said Under The Stars

"Isn't it beautiful?" Molly asked, a sigh of contentment leaving her lips.

"Yes," Sherlock breathed out, but he was not staring at the stars. Molly was unaware of this.

"I love the way they shine," Molly continued.

"So do I," Sherlock replied, watching her eyes look up at the night sky.

"Have you ever seen anything so gorgeous?" Molly asked rhetorically.

"Yes," Sherlock whispered, trailing his lips down her neck, finally grabbing Molly's attention.

"Sherlock," Molly gasped and giggled at the same time. "You haven't even been looking at the stars."

"Don't need to," Sherlock murmured against her skin. "So beautiful." Molly rolled over on her side to face him regardless of the blush that had spread over her cheeks.

"Are you at all interested in stargazing?" Molly laughed. "If you weren't, you could've just told me."

"Of course not," Sherlock replied. "But I am rather interested in watching a certain pathologist stargaze. It's much more fascinating to see the stars that way."

"You weren't even looking at them," Molly teased.

"The way they reflect in your eyes makes them shine more than usual," Sherlock commented. "You put the stars to shame, Molly Hooper." He leaned in for a kiss but Molly pulled away when a droplet of rain hit her nose. One drop turned into ten and not a moment later, it was pouring.

"Of course it would rain," Molly smiled.

"Ruined a perfectly good night," Sherlock huffed. But Molly wasn't listening. She had hopped off of the blanket and ran in the slick grass in her bare feet. She was spinning around in circles, her arms extended out from her sides. "Are you insane?" Sherlock shouted over the sound of the falling rain.

"Absolutely," Molly giggled. She held her hand out. "Come on, it's just a bit of water."

"It's completely immature," Sherlock grumbled, though he couldn't deny how carefree and adorable she looked dancing in the rain. _Adorable_ , Sherlock sneered in his mind. _Where did that come from?_ His feet betrayed him as they moved toward Molly. Before he processed how he was suddenly in her arms, they were dancing a waltz in the pouring rain and Sherlock allowed himself to let loose. They were quickly laughing together like two teenagers.

"This is amazing," Molly smiled, looking up into Sherlock's stormy eyes. "See, it's not so bad being silly every now and then." His lips were suddenly on hers, the rain adding a new element to their usual passion. The new sensation elicited shivers from both of them as they were wrapped up in each other's arms. Sherlock lifted her up into his arms, causing a small yelp of surprise to pass Molly's lips.

"Come on, wouldn't want you getting sick now," Sherlock told her with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He caught them a cab and they rode back to Baker Street in bliss.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** not sure if I'm satisfied with this but I hope y'all enjoyed it! :)


	8. Things You Said When I Was Scared

**Warning: This is an angsty, hurt/comfort chapter (with a happy ending)**

* * *

Something was wrong with Molly. For once, the consulting detective couldn't figure it out. To say he was terrified was an understatement. She refused to talk to him and made up excuses not to see him. No amount of small talk was welcome at Bart's. It was nothing but business.

One night he had went over to her flat to surprise her with takeaway, letting himself in with the key she gave him. The shower was running and music was playing. Even with the heavy sound of the water and the music, Sherlock heard it. He heard Molly's sobs that wracked her small form. His heart was breaking for her. Whatever was wrong, and he knew something was, she still refused to tell him.

He wrote a message for her on a sticky note and stuck it to the takeaway bag before leaving her flat. He didn't want to leave but anytime he tried to console her, she pushed him away. Sherlock didn't want to make things any worse than they were, so he gave her the space she needed, or at least said she needed.

* * *

Molly hopped out of the shower, dressed in her fuzzy pink bathrobe and her hair wrapped in a towel. She found the bag of takeaway, reading the note immediately.

 _Thought I'd bring you something to eat. Molly, whatever it is I did wrong, I'm so sorry._

 _Love, Sherlock xx_

She cried for the third time that day.

* * *

The door to 221B was opened and Molly Hooper slipped into the flat like a sneaky cat. It was quiet…too quiet. Sherlock's bedroom door was ajar. She left her coat and shoes in the sitting room before padding down the hall and into his room. His back was turned to her but there was no doubt that he was sleeping. It was unusual for him. She walked around the bed and slid herself under the duvet next to him. He was most definitely asleep, but there were tear tracks on his cheeks.

Molly kissed the salty leftover tears from his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry," Molly whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Sherlock, please believe me. I made you cry." Tears slipped from her eyes as she realized she had broken his heart.

"Please don't cry," Sherlock mumbled sleepily. She sniffled and kissed his lips softly. "Molly, what's wrong?"

"I'll be fine. Just know that you didn't do anything okay? Don't worry," Molly spoke quietly.

"I'll always worry about you," Sherlock replied. "You know I'm here for you, right? You can tell me anything."

"I want to tell you, but I'm scared," Molly admitted.

"Scared of what?" Sherlock asked.

"Scared that you'll be disappointed; I don't want you to be," Molly answered.

"Molly, please tell me what's wrong," Sherlock pleaded. She took a deep breath before diving into her tear-jerking story.

"I received some bad news last week a—and I'm t—trying to cope but—" Molly faltered, sobbing into the crook of his neck. He just held her close and let her get it all out before she continued.

"God, I'm sorry, your shirt's all soaked," Molly apologized sheepishly.

"No apologies needed," Sherlock replied. "It's just a shirt." He waited for her to catch her breath.

"It turns out that I p—probably can't have children anymore," Molly's voice broke. "My eggs are dwindling a—and the chance is slim to none." She cried out once more.

"Molly, my darling," Sherlock whispered, rubbing small circles into her back. "Let it out. It'll be okay."

"Y—you're not disappointed with me?" Molly asked, confusion lacing her tone.

"No, why would I be? Molly, this is no fault of yours," Sherlock assured her.

"You still want me then? Even though I probably can't give you children?" Molly sniffled.

"I'll always want you," Sherlock told her.

"I really wanted a baby," Molly confessed. "Your eyes, my nose—"

"I could imagine a little version of you running around," Sherlock chuckled. "Darling, if I had control over this, I'd give you as many children as you wanted; our children."

"I know you would," Molly gave a slight smile.

"Was that a smile?" Sherlock teased.

"No," Molly denied.

"I think that was a smile," Sherlock insisted, playfully kissing every open area of her face available to him. He managed to elicit a giggle from her. His lips landed on hers and he held her tight to his chest, running his fingers down her spine. Their lips broke away from one another and he held her stare for a moment. his hand caressing her cheek.

"I love you," Sherlock whispered.

"I love you too," Molly whispered in return.

* * *

"Hey, Molly?" Sherlock asked.

"Hmm?" she replied.

"Only slim to none?" he questioned.

"Yeah," Molly confirmed.

"So there's still a chance," Sherlock stated.

"I suppose, but—mmph," Molly was caught off guard by his kiss. He lifted his head from her lips and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"There's no time to waste then," Sherlock remarked. "Let's make a baby."

* * *

Five attempts, one marriage, another two attempts and nine months later, Charlotte Mary-Margaret Holmes was born. She was beautiful and the new parents held her gently like the little miracle she was. If one glanced into the hospital room, they'd see the father's forehead leaning against the mother's as she held their tiny bundle of joy. The father held his daughter's tiny dimpled hand in his for the first time and vowed to never let her down. Not her and not his wife. Ever.


	9. Things U Said Tht Made Me Feel Like Shit

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him," Sherlock deduced.

"What? Sorry what?" Molly asked, flustered.

 _This can't be happening. He hasn't—no, oh God_ , Molly thought.

"In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift," Sherlock continued.

"Take a day off," John pleaded.

"Sherlock, have a drink," Lestrade insisted.

 _Thanks for trying._

"Oh, come on. Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag, perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best. Must be someone special then," Sherlock further deduced.

 _Sherlock, please don't do this._

"Shade of red echoes the lipstick; either a subconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has _love_ on her mind," Sherlock teased.

 _I love you, you git._

"The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact that she's giving him a gift at all. That all suggests long-term hopes, however forlorn," he rambled on.

 _Most definitely forlorn, but it's the thought that counts, right?_

"And that she's seeing him tonight is evident from the makeup and what she's wearing, obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts—" Sherlock trailed off after opening the tag on the gift.

 _Dearest Sherlock_

 _Love Molly xxx_

"You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always," Molly reprimanded him. She refused to cry though it felt like a scalpel to her heart. He looked ashamed, not knowing how to proceed. Then he was stepping closer.

"I am sorry. Forgive me," Sherlock apologized. He moved closer then. Molly's heartbeat sped up, unsure of what was about to take place. Should she dare to hope?

"Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper," Sherlock spoke softly before leaning forward to place a gentle kiss upon her cheek. She closed her eyes to savor the moment, for she'd probably never get this again.

Then that blasted text alert went off. Things got pretty awkward real quickly.

* * *

Molly walked home in the snow from the hospital. Sherlock knew Irene from not her face. The answer was obvious to the pathologist. So she came to terms that she wasn't they type of girl for Sherlock Holmes and she was okay with it. Deciding to love him from afar was a tough decision but she couldn't help it. She loved him so much and she would do anything for him. Anything he needed, she would be there. Just because he didn't see her that way didn't mean that she cared for him any less. Yes, the things he said tonight made her feel like shit but he also gave a heartfelt apology. Sherlock Holmes didn't do apologies. Ever.

Something changed in that moment. A shift in their friendship was apparent. But what did it mean? Everyone, including herself, was shocked at the apology. Then the kiss happened. Sherlock Holmes did not partake in physical interaction if he could help it. Molly would feel the ghost of his full lips on her cheek for a very long time. She allowed herself to cry silently to sleep that night. She refused to cry again over the consulting detective from the next morning on.


	10. While You Thought I Was Sleeping

**In case the title is too long to fit, this is based on the prompt 'things you said when you thought I was asleep.'**

* * *

It had been a long night. The events of Sherrinford had taken a toll on Sherlock and everyone he knows. He had gone to Molly's flat to explain but she didn't want to talk about it right away. So, they didn't talk at all. The two of them sat in uncomfortable silence for a bit and she assumed he would want to use her bedroom for his usual bolt hole. She had gotten up from where they sat on her bed to sleep on the sofa but Sherlock's scarred hands reached out for her waist to stop her.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"To sleep on the sofa," Molly replied.

"Please stay," Sherlock pleaded. So she turned off the lamp and curled herself under the duvet, facing away from the consulting detective. Her attempt at being cold did not deter him. If there was anything he learned from Molly's love for him is that people who wrap a cold shell around themselves just need to be warmed up. So he inched closer, carefully, and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face against her neck. Molly stiffened but soon relaxed, her breath becoming even.

He listened for her breaths and knew immediately she was asleep. There were things he wanted—needed—to say to her; things he hoped she'd let him say. He nuzzled his nose against her neck affectionately. She didn't stir a bit.

"Molly," Sherlock whispered. "I am so sorry. I wish it never happened that way but it did. It is what it is. I'm no good at this, but I wish I knew how to make it all better. I don't want to lose you. So, if you still refuse to talk to me after tonight, this may be my only chance to say it…" He took a shaky breath. "I love you, Molly Hooper, so very much." He placed a soft kiss against her neck. "It seems it was just yesterday that you asked me out for coffee. Sorry for being so rude to you then. I should've taken you up on that offer but I was a bit of an emotionally repressed arse then. I still am a bit of an arse and I've no idea why you love me, but I want to thank you for loving me. Where would I be without you?"

He snuggled in closer, if it was even possible. He saw but did not observe. Molly blinked, her eyelashes wet with tears. She had been awake the whole time and did not want to alert him to her state. Molly knew he meant the 'I love you' now if the things he said while he thought she slept were any indication.

"Please stay," Sherlock pleaded once more before attempting to sleep.

* * *

When Molly felt his breathing become even, she assumed he had fallen asleep.

"It's okay, Sherlock, everything will be alright," Molly whispered. "You're right; it is what it is. You'll never lose me, love. I will always be here. As to why I love you, that's simple. You're a good man with a good heart. I've always seen that in you. When you love, you love fiercely. You would do anything for those you care about, just as I would do anything for you. God, Sherlock, I love you so much it hurts."

Molly placed her hand over his resting on her stomach. Sherlock took an intake of breath when their hands made contact, a tear tracking down his cheek. She fidgeted, attempting to turn around and Sherlock loosened his grip so she could. He knew he'd been found out.

"Hi," Molly said, looking into his watery eyes.

"Hello," Sherlock replied softly. Another silent moment passed before he spoke up again. "You heard me, then?"

"Yes; you heard me too," Molly replied.

"Can we go out for coffee?" Sherlock asked.

"Right now?" Molly giggled.

"No, of course not, right now…unless we go to that all night diner," Sherlock joked.

"That sounds nice, actually," Molly remarked.

"Wait, really?" Sherlock asked, his eyes lighting up.

"Can't sleep anyways, might as well," Molly smiled. She caressed his cheek, wiping her thumb across his cheek to wipe away the wet trail of tears. "Come on, let's get some coffee."

* * *

They ordered coffee at the diner and shared a plate of biscuits. Molly listened intently as Sherlock told her about the events of the day all leading up to when he showed up at her flat. She had held his hand and squeezed it every now and then to comfort him when reliving the all too recent memories was too painful.

"Please tell me you believe me," Sherlock muttered. "I do love you, Molly."

"Of course I believe you. I love you too, Sherlock. I'm here for you and I'm so sorry you went through such a trauma," Molly replied softly. "If you need anything, you can have me." Sherlock smiled at her choice of wording.

"What about you? What do you need?" Sherlock asked.

"You," Molly answered. After squeezing her hand, Sherlock walked up to the counter to pay and came back with two takeaway boxes of chips.

"Here," he said handing her a small styrofoam box.

"Chips?" Molly asked.

"Yep," Sherlock replied cheekily, popping the 'p.' He held his hand out to her, and as she gently placed her hand in his, he kissed the back of it before lacing their fingers together. "Fancy a walk back to your flat?"

"Sounds lovely," Molly smiled as they exited the diner and walked out into the cool, clear night. The new journey they were about to embark upon together wasn't going to be easy but it would be worth it. They had waited long enough for one another.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, I really took this further than I expected to lol. I hope y'all enjoyed it!


	11. Things You Said In Your Sleep

**takes place a bit after celebrating Sherlock's birthday but before TFP**

* * *

Sherlock was passed out on the sofa when Molly came over to switch shifts with John in watching over the consulting detective.

"Hey, I brought takeaway, so I thought—" Molly trailed off, noticing Sherlock was asleep. She gave a small smile before setting the bag down on the table in front of the sofa. Walking into the kitchen to find a fork to eat her food with, Molly heard him stir in his sleep. She came back out, quietly took her food out of the bag and sat in John's chair to eat.

"Molly," Sherlock mumbled sleepily. "Love my Molly." The pathologist dropped her forkful of food into the container, her mouth hanging open. She held her breath momentarily before moving to eat again. He continued to mutter a stream of different words such as, "illogical," "beautiful," and "forgive me."

"What," Molly whispered to herself.

"I can hear you thinking," Sherlock spoke clearly, waking up. "What is it J—oh, Molly."

"Hello," she greeted nervously.

"Why are you thinking so loudly? And why are you looking at me like that?" Sherlock asked.

"Like what?" Molly questioned.

"Like…that," Sherlock gestured to her face. "With those big brown eyes and mixed look of confusion and hope. There is no hope for me, Molly."

"I—well, you…said my name…in your sleep," Molly told him. "And there is hope for you, Sherlock Holmes, don't you dare think like that."

"Did I?" Sherlock asked, his face contorted into a look of panic. He didn't bother arguing with her second statement.

"Y-yes, quite clearly actually," Molly continued.

"Were there other things said?" he inquired.

"Uh, well—" Molly faltered. "I can't be sure that I heard you correctly. It was probably just a string of random, meaningless words."

"Mmm," Sherlock hummed, clearly bothered by this.

"I brought takeaway," she informed him, hoping to rid the air of the tension that lay thick in the air around them. He took his container out of the bag.

"Did I happen to admit I'm actually human? It's a terrible thought," Sherlock chuckled.

"Something like that," Molly confirmed with a small smile.


	12. Things You Said At 4am

Molly woke at four in the morning to her phone ringing. She groggily rubbed at her eyes before looking to see that it was Sherlock.

"Hello?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Molly?" Sherlock's voice cracked. "I need you."

"Sherlock, what's wrong, love?" Molly asked, fully alert.

"I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes it's you in that coffin. I can't lose you, Molly," Sherlock cried.

"Shhh, love, it's okay. I'm here. I'm here," Molly assured him. If she were there, she would card her fingers through his hair and hum a soft melody to lull him to sleep.

"If your flat was rigged with explosives, you would've been two seconds away from—from dying," Sherlock continued. "And that voicemail, Molly, please tell me you changed it."

"I changed it; I did. Sherlock, I'm alive and I'm here and I love you so much," Molly told him sweetly, getting out of bed dressed in her uni t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. She tossed on a light coat and shoes, grabbing her keys. "I'm coming over. Would you like that?"

"Yes," Sherlock answered. "Stay on the phone with me?"

"Of course," Molly replied, locking her door and stepping outside to catch a cab.

* * *

She rode to Baker Street and paid the fare before traipsing up the stairs to 221B.

"Sherlock, love, I'm here," Molly informed him before unlocking the door with her key. She stepped into the sitting room, finding him in his chair. She hung up the phone and walked over to him. "Hey you."

"Molly," Sherlock breathed out, a small smile touching his lips. He gently tugged on her waist, inviting her to sit down on his lap and she followed promptly.

"Are you okay?" she asked, caressing his cheek.

"I am now," he replied before kissing her soundly.

"Come on, let's try to get some sleep," Molly suggested, standing up and offering her hand to him. He took it and allowed her to lead him to his bedroom. She laid beside him, her fingers carding through his curls and his arms wrapped around her tight.

"Thank you for coming over," Sherlock whispered as his eyes fluttered with sleep. Molly kissed his forehead as she continued to run her fingers in his hair. He leaned into her touch.

"Anything for you, my love," Molly told him softly, placing another kiss on his lips.

"Mm, love you, Molly," he murmured.

"I love you too, Sherlock."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** It is my personal headcanon that Sherlock has nightmares often after the Sherrinford incident and Molly soothes them away. Hence why this trope is usually used in a lot of my stories lol. Thoughts?


	13. Things You Didn't Say At All

"You're being distant, Molly, that's not like you," Sherlock told her.

"Me? I'm the distant one, seriously?" Molly argued back.

It had been three months since the Sherrinford incident and though they worked things out about the phone call, things weren't progressing the way any of them had expected.

"Yes, you barely ever want to spend time with me and I can't help but think I did something wrong," Sherlock snapped. "I can't fix it if you don't tell me."

"There's nothing to fix, Sherlock," Molly admitted. "I—I don't know if I can do this."

"Are you saying you don't want me anymore?" Sherlock asked, his tone softer but his voice cracked. He sounded defeated.

"Of course I want you, but—" Molly began.

"Then what's the problem? I don't understand, Molly, I can't read your mind and contrary to popular belief, I cannot deduce the issue," Sherlock explained. Molly turned her face away from him, gathering her thoughts.

"We never even said it again afterwards," Molly muttered. Sherlock's face softened and he took a tentative step towards her, reaching out and waiting for her to accept him. She turned back towards him and allowed him to hold her. "It's like the words became toxic when Eurus forced them out of us; when I forced it out of you." She was crying then, no chance of the tears stopping anytime soon.

"Molly," Sherlock whispered, hugging her closer to him and kissing the top of her head.

"On top of that, I'm terrified of mucking it all up," she confessed. "I'm afraid of showing you the full extent of my lo—feelings for you. I don't want you to feel suffocated, so I don't show affection as much."

"You could never suffocate me with your affection, Molly. I want—no, I need it. I crave it. Please don't feel like you have to hold back with me," Sherlock told her, his tone gentle. "I need you." He allowed a tear to slip from his own eyes and Molly felt it drop into her hair.

"Really?" Molly cried.

"Yes, of course," Sherlock confirmed, tilting her head up. He leaned down to press firm kisses to her lips. They hadn't kissed in at least two weeks because of these lingering fears and Sherlock was going to make sure that Molly knew the full extent of his heart. Each brush of their lips sparked an electricity between them until it seemed they were holding onto each other for support. He tilted his head and parted his lips further, encouraging her to deepen it. As her tongue brushed against his, he lifted her into his arms and she ran her fingers through his onyx curls.

When they broke the kiss to regain their oxygen supply, Sherlock leaned his forehead against hers, blue eyes meeting brown.

"I love you, Molly Hooper," Sherlock smiled.

"I love you too, Sherlock Holmes," Molly whispered.

"Are you still scared?" he asked.

"No," she replied, nuzzling against him. "I feel safe with you."

"I'm glad," Sherlock told her. "I never want you to feel afraid of loving me." He paused a moment. "I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"I'm sorry for keeping this from you," Molly apologized.

"Forgive me?" Sherlock asked.

"Always. Forgive me?" Molly asked in return.

"Always," he answered.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I really interpreted this prompt as a chance to play out miscommunication between them, so I hope I did well idk lol.


	14. Things You Said While Holding My Hand

**another post-TLD and pre-TFP one-shot. Sherlock and Molly have a heart-to-heart.**

 **Based on the following prompts:**

 **#38: things you said while holding my hand**

 **#8: things you said while you were crying**

 **#9: things you said while I was crying**

* * *

"Alright, I'm here and I brought movies and snacks," Molly announced excitedly, slipping off her gloves as she entered 221B. Sherlock sat in his chair still unshaven and lost in thought. She noticed this and though she would normally let him be, this wasn't a time for him to be lost in his head. "Sherlock." Concern laced her tone as she brushed her fingers against his shoulder.

"What? Hmm, Molly. Here to babysit me again?" Sherlock asked with a roll of his eyes.

"I'm not babysitting," Molly insisted. She softened her tone then. "I'm here because I care about you."

"Will caring make me feel better?" Sherlock retorted.

"Yes, actually, it will," Molly told him. "If I didn't care, I wouldn't be here to help make you feel better."

"Caring is not an advantage," he muttered.

"Now, you and I both know that's not true; it's just something you say to protect yourself from getting your heart broken," Molly deduced.

"What good does it do if I already feel like it's broken," Sherlock's voice cracked.

"Tell me what's wrong," Molly said, placing her hand on the arm of his chair.

"Do you hate me?" he asked, Molly feeling like there was a blow to her heart. _Does he really think that?_

"No, of course not, why would you think that?" she questioned. To her surprise, Sherlock laid his hand on top of hers, tracing patterns with his thumb.

"I thought, maybe, you blamed me for Mary's death too," Sherlock explained. "John already told me I didn't kill her but I feel so guilty. The thought that you might hate me for it hurts. My chest hurts, Molly."

"I never blamed you, Sherlock. It killed me to turn you away when you offered to help with Rosie," Molly admitted. "Mary chose to save you."

"What about nearly killing myself with drugs? You don't hate me for that?" Sherlock asked, insistent that Molly had to hate him for something.

"No, never; I was worried and terrified of losing you but I didn't hate you. I don't hate you at all," Molly told him softly.

"How do you not hate me?" Sherlock snapped. She knew he wasn't angry with her but with himself and that he felt he deserved her hatred. "Doesn't it hurt you like hell to keep putting your faith in me? To not ever give up on the unworthy man before you?" Molly had never cried in his presence but she could not hold it back this time. Her heart ached for him. She kneeled down next to his chair, her hand still in his grasp.

"Of course it hurts, Sherlock," Molly cried.

"Then why are you still trying?" he inquired, his tone softer. A tear slipped from his eyes.

"Because some things are worth fighting for," Molly smiled through her tears. "You are worth fighting for, Sherlock Holmes." She lifted her free hand to wipe away the tears that rolled down his cheeks. In a moment of bravery, Molly leaned forward to kiss his cheek, taking him by surprise, though he did not pull back but closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

"You allow yourself to care and yet you have a strength that is never diminished," Sherlock told her. "If anything, it strengthens you to care and get hurt because somehow, you come out stronger. I don't understand it but I admire you for it, Molly Hooper."

"Wow, Sherlock, that really means a lot to me," Molly told him. "Thank you." She stood up and laced her fingers through his. "Now, come on and pick a movie." She gestured for him to stand up and follow her to the sofa so they could sit together.

"Did you happen to bring any murder documentaries?" Sherlock asked with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Yes, I did," Molly confirmed with a playful roll of her eyes. "And I baked ginger nuts." She pulled the tupperware filled with Sherlock's favorite biscuits out of her bag.

"You know me so well," he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thank you."

"Anything for my favorite consulting detective," Molly replied, inserting the disc into the DVD player. She plopped down on the sofa next to him and reached for a biscuit only to brush her hand against his.

"Here," Sherlock smirked, handing her a biscuit. She smiled with a silent thank you on her lips. They soon got lost in the documentary, debating with each other and playing deductions as the mystery unraveled further, unknowingly holding hands the entire time.


	15. Things You Said On New Year's Eve

**Molly throws a NYE party in hopes that a certain consulting detective will attend. S4 AU where Mary never died and that mess didn't happen lol.**

 **requested by mrsfrankensteinwinchester on tumblr**  
 **#45 things you said on New Year's Eve**

* * *

Molly's flat was decorated in gold and silver for New Year's Eve. Friends were gathered around to ring in the New Year. Lost in the revelry, she almost didn't hear the knock at the door. She opened it to reveal Mary, John and a two year old Rosie.

"Hi," Molly greeted enthusiastically, pulling them in for a hug.

"Aunt Mowwy!" Rosie exclaimed. Molly lifted Rosie in her arms to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

"You are getting so big, Rosie," Molly marveled at her goddaughter.

"Thanks for the invite, dear," Mary told her. "Sherlock was driving us insane." Molly's face fell.

"He's not coming, is he?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"Afraid not," John answered. "Sorry, Molls."

"Oh well. I should've known," Molly shrugged. It wasn't long before the Goo Goo Dolls' _Better Days_ was playing over the speakers and everyone was enjoying the lighthearted conversations being held.

It was nearing eleven-thirty when Molly felt two soft but callused hands cover her eyes.

"Surprise," Sherlock whispered in her ear before removing his hands. The entire room looked on in shock that the consulting detective had actually come to the party.

"You came," Molly said, her eyes widening. She threw her arms around him, uncaring of his opposition to physical interaction.

"Yes well," Sherlock cleared his throat, "I was bored. Just a last resort." Molly knew he was lying through his teeth but she didn't care. He was here. Mary shot a knowing glare at her husband's best friend. Emilie Clarke's rendition of _What Are You Doing New Year's Eve_ played through the flat. Conversation had continued as if nothing amazingly rare had happened.

"Oh, I love this song," Molly said to no one in particular. Sherlock spoke up before he lost his nerve.

"Care to dance, Miss Hooper?" he asked, offering his hand to her. Her lips parted in surprise. She took his hand and he pulled her in, moving gracefully across the sitting room.

"I have to say, I didn't think you would come," Molly told him.

"And miss a chance to make up for that horrid Christmas party incident years ago?" Sherlock asked. He nodded at her attire. "You're wearing the same dress." Molly didn't have a response to that. They danced together with ease, molding to each other. Every step they took was in response to the other's movements as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They both took note of how well they moved together. The song ended and they regretfully stepped apart.

For the remaining fifteen minutes before midnight, everyone went around to tell their resolutions to one another. Anderson, Sally and Lestrade were the first three to voice theirs. It continued around the room, Molly being next.

"Well, I don't normally make these but I suppose it would be to try to live my life to the fullest more often," Molly said. It was Sherlock's turn but he looked confident in whatever he was about to say. The clock read eleven-fifty eight.

"I resolve to finally get my head out of my arse and do something that should've been done years ago," Sherlock announced with a smirk. At eleven-fifty nine, the guests started a countdown, yelling out the last ten seconds. Molly had joined in and Sherlock only observed the room. As soon as the word 'one' left Molly's mouth, the consulting detective acted on his resolution and leaned down to finally kiss his pathologist's inviting lips.

"Mmm," Molly hummed, melting into his embrace. Sherlock felt euphoric getting lost in what was supposed to be a simple kiss. Oh no, they were having a full on snogging session. Each time their tongues brushed, their hearts beat a little faster. They broke away from each other at the sound of John Watson's voice over Glee's rendition of _This Is The New Year_.

"Get a room you two," he laughed.

"Didn't think you had it in you, Sherlock," Greg chuckled, raising his glass.

"Oh, I knew it all along," Mary said smugly.

"I knew it!" Anderson shouted. "They said I was delusional but I knew there was something between you two!"

"Shut up, Anderson," both Molly and Sherlock yelled with a roll of their eyes. The room was silenced.

"My God, there's two of them," Sally gasped. "I'm gonna need another drink for this one." The consulting detective and the pathologist laughed together with amusement.

"Happy New Year, Molly Hooper," Sherlock told her softly, kissing her lips once more.

"Happy New Year, Sherlock Holmes," Molly replied, reciprocating his affections. As they kissed, Sherlock lifted her from the ground and spun her around, eliciting a soft laugh from Molly's lips. The smile he gave was reserved only for her and it would only be hers in the years to come.


	16. Things You Said After It Was Over

**WARNING: super angsty**

 **songs I suggest listening to while (whilst) reading aka my playlist:**

 **-Someone Wake Me Up by The Veronicas**

 **-Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran**

 **-Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran**

* * *

"Maybe this just isn't right for us," Molly mumbled.

"But I want it to be," Sherlock's voice broke.

"I know; so do I, but I don't want things to get so bad that it ruins our friendship," Molly spoke softly, holding his hand in hers.

"I wish you wouldn't say such things," Sherlock said, his eyes downcast. Another moment passed before he spoke up again. "So this is it then?"

"Yea," Molly sniffed, "I guess it is." They embraced, holding each other for what felt like hours.

"I miss you already," Sherlock murmured against her hair.

"We'll still be friends, Sherlock, but I know what you mean. I'll always love you, you know that?" Molly asked, tears slipping from her eyes.

"And I you, Molly Hooper," he replied, kissing the top of her head. She looked up at him. "Sorry, force of habit."

"It's fine," Molly told him. "I gotta get to work. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Are you?" he questioned with concern. Molly shook her head. "Then you know my answer."

Molly left 221B but not without shooting a text to John.

 **Might be a danger night; please keep an eye on him, I'm headed to work. MH**

 **What happened? JW**

 **It's over. MH**

 **Gosh, Molly, I'm sorry. JW**

 **Me too. MH**

* * *

Sherlock stood at the window in the sitting room, gliding his bow across the Stradivarius. Each note played with agonizing pain. His chest was constricted and it quite literally felt as if his heart was truly shattered like a piece of glass. This was exactly why he always lived his life with his emotions closed off. He did not want to feel this pain. Though Molly would always be his friend, he wanted more than that now that he had a taste of it for the past four months. It was a miracle that they had healed together after the Sherrinford incident but this? This was pure torment.

"Sherlock?" John called out, Rosie in his arms. No response, just the melody of the consulting detective's heartbreak ringing through the flat. He sighed and sat down in his usual chair awaiting any kind of response. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Sherlock said, his voice brittle. "Damn chemical defect."

"What happened exactly?" John asked.

"We had been having a few"—he paused to find the right word—"domestics lately."

"Okay, so that's normal. Arguing is healthy in a relationship, Sherlock, really it is," John insisted.

"I'm sure it's not healthy to have them three times a day," Sherlock retorted.

"Oh, well, no that is a bit not good," John replied. "Did either of you ever talk any of them out?"

"We did today, coming to the mutual conclusion that we're not the right fit for one another," Sherlock admitted, holding back his tears. "We're still friends though."

"God, Sherlock, I'm sorry," John told him.

"Me too," he responded solemnly.

* * *

Molly kept herself distracted with autopsies at work until she kept hearing Sherlock's voice in her head making deductions about the cause of death. The pain in her chest eventually caused her to collapse on the ground sobbing so loudly, Mike Stamford walked in to check on her.

"Hey, Molly, what's wrong?" he asked her. "Tough autopsy?"

"No, I—I'm fine, just give me a moment," Molly assured him, wiping the tears away.

"You don't look fine," Mike remarked with sympathy. "Look, just finish this one up and you can go home. I'm not one for prying so whatever happened, I'm truly sorry. It's not good to be in a state like this while doing any kind of work." He hugged her before leaving her to the cadaver before her.

* * *

Going home early wasn't really helpful, as there were still traces of him everywhere whether it was physically or just in her memory. He still had spare clothes in her dresser and an extra Belstaff hanging on her coat rack. A candid photo of them taken by Lestrade was displayed on the refrigerator. They had had a booth in front of the window at Speedy's. Lestrade was on his way to meet Sherlock about a case when he spotted them. He had snapped the photo as they were picking up chips from their shared platter. They were leaning forward towards each other and laughing with one another. It was Molly's favourite photo of them.

She wasn't hungry so she resigned herself to her bed, too exhausted to change into pajamas. Out of habit, she turned on her side to throw an arm around Sherlock but realized he wasn't there. With a sigh of defeat, she pulled his pillow to her chest. The scent of him still lingered in the fabric and she breathed it in, as it calmed her. Molly cried herself to sleep that night. Little did she know, Sherlock was doing the same.

* * *

The next day, Mycroft had showed up at 221B. Needless to say, Sherlock was not happy to have to entertain him on top of everything that had been happening.

"What did I tell you, brother mine?" Mycroft asked haughtily.

"Don't," Sherlock growled.

"Touchy," the eldest Holmes remarked. "I told you that caring is a disadvantage. All lives end, all hearts are broken. Was it really worth this mess?"

"Yes!" Sherlock shouted. "Molly Hooper is more than worth it! She is worth fighting for, regardless of how much she broke my heart."

"Just as I thought; well done, Sherlock," Mycroft smiled. He _actually_ smiled. Sherlock scrunched his face in confusion.

"What did you just say?" the consulting detective asked.

"You heard me right, brother mine. Stop moping and do something about this situation," Mycroft insisted.

"Why are you helping me?" Sherlock inquired.

"Despite what you may think, I am not heartless, though I like to think of myself as such. I had never seen you happier than when you were with her. Plus, I'm quite fond of Miss Hooper. She's an excellent match for you," Mycroft explained.

"You just like the fact she bakes you fairy cakes," Sherlock teased.

"An added plus," Mycroft remarked.

When the eldest Holmes left the flat, Sherlock texted John.

 **Don't come over tonight. SH**

 **Now, Sherlock, whatever you're going to do, don't do it. JW**

 **I'm not relapsing, John. I'm on a case; the most important one of my life. SH**

 **What case? JW**

 **The case of Molly Hooper. SH**

* * *

Two weeks had come and gone since they broke up. Molly hadn't seen him since. She worried constantly of course. Walking into the lab early Friday morning, she discovered a small bouquet of bright yellow daisies on her desk. She lifted open the small card attached to it.

 _Hope this makes you smile. –William_

Molly's breath caught in her throat. Sherlock rarely used his first name. It took her back to the first time she had called him by that name. They had been making love.

 _Sherlock looked at her in surprise._

 _"Sorry, it just… slipped," Molly explained. "I know you don't like it." Sherlock had cut her off with a warm kiss._

 _"I like how it sounds when you say it," he whispered against her lips before kissing her deeply._

She snapped back to reality. From that night on, she was the only one aside from his parents who was allowed to call him by that name. The flowers and the memory did indeed make her smile. Work wasn't so hard that day.

* * *

When she arrived home that evening, there was a note lying on the kitchen counter next to the anatomical heart locket he had given her for her birthday a little over a month ago. She picked up the note written in his hand.

 _Dearest Molly,_

 _A cab will arrive in an hour to bring you_ _home_ _to Baker Street. Please wear the necklace. I will see you soon._

 _Yours truly,_

 _William S.S. Holmes_

Molly smiled to herself. She hopped in the shower and dressed herself in her favorite pair of jeans and a dusty rose coloured, long sleeve, scoop neck blouse. She left her hair down, cascading over her shoulders. Hooking the locket around her neck, the sound of a cab pulling up outside her flat caught her attention. The pathologist laughed to herself wondering what the hell she was doing, but she didn't care. This was the happiest she had felt in a while and she wasn't about to miss out on a second chance.

* * *

Sherlock paced nervously in front of the windows. He felt he might be in over his head. _What if she doesn't come_ , he thought. He noticed the cab pull up and he practically flew to the door awaiting the moment to let her in. He was dressed in his usual attire with the aubergine button up that she loved him in. If it wasn't for her minuscule knock on the door, he would've gotten lost in his mind palace.

Opening the door to reveal none other than Molly Hooper with a slight blush coloring her cheeks, it took all of his strength to not swoop down to capture her lips. He wanted to badly but maintained his composure…for the most part.

"You came," he breathed out in surprise, his hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I did," Molly smiled. "Thank you for the flowers. They're lovely."

"It was nothing," Sherlock insisted. She walked in hesitantly and he slipped off her coat. "You look beautiful." He reached out to take her hand but she backed away a couple of steps.

"Sherlock, what's all this about?" Molly asked nervously.

"Healing," Sherlock replied simply.

"I don't understand," she stated.

"You once told me that love is healing and I cannot dispute your statement. Molly, we had a bout of heated rows but we never really talked about why they happened or how to fix them," Sherlock explained. "I want to fix us." His voice cracked as he said those five words.

"Oh, Sherlock," Molly said softly, stepping towards him. She caressed his cheek, wiping away the tear that fell from his eyelashes. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," he whispered. In a moment of bravery, letting go of all their fears, they gently brushed their lips together. They savored the feeling they had missed so much.

"I'm sorry I broke your heart, Sherlock," Molly cried.

"It was an honor to have my heart broken by you, Molly Hooper," Sherlock gave a small smile. "Please don't cry. I did get takeout for us." Molly couldn't help but let out a laugh. God, he missed that sound. Taking her hand, he led her to the kitchen table where, instead of his usual experiments, there was a tablecloth covering it with fish and chips laid out on actual dishes. A candle was lit and set in the middle of the table.

"Sherlock, this is so sweet of you," Molly told him, her voice soft.

"I thought you'd like it," he leaned down to whisper in her ear. She closed her eyes at the comforting sound of his baritone voice, his breath against her neck.

* * *

After they finished their dinner, they were sitting on the sofa in companionable silence; Molly was curled up against his side. He was running his fingers through her long hair.

"Do you still love me?" Sherlock asked.

"I never stopped," Molly smiled, looking up at him. She pushed herself up a bit so that she could press her lips to the side of his neck. This caused him to squeeze her a bit tighter.

"Can I keep you?" he murmured.

"As long as I get to keep you, love," Molly told him. She stood up then, offering her hand to him. "Come on, we can talk things out tomorrow. I think some reconciliation is needed." He took her hand and she walked backwards towards his bedroom until he decided to scoop her up in his arms. She locked her arms around his neck as he playfully spun her around, eliciting a lighthearted giggle from her lips.

"I love you," he told her, firmly kissing her.

"Mm," she hummed as their lips touched. When they broke away, Molly looked up into his eyes as he leaned his forehead against hers. "I love you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes." With a smile, he carried her the rest of the way to the bedroom.

* * *

Later that night, after a make-up session or two, Sherlock held Molly in his arms, his lips pressed against her hair.

"Sherlock?" she called out in the dark.

"Hmm?" he answered.

"You're the love of my life," Molly said breathlessly, nuzzling her dainty nose against his neck.

"And you're mine," he whispered, holding her a bit tighter. They fell asleep tangled together, lost in the bliss of each other's presence that had been missed so much.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I know, super angsty, I'm sorry but this story was an itch I needed to scratch. I've had this idea for over a month and I feel so much better now that it's out of my system.


	17. Things You Said When We First Met

"You must be our new head pathologist," Doctor Lockwood greeted.

"Yes, that's me. Hi, I'm Molly. Molly Hooper," she replied.

"Nice to meet you Doctor Hooper," he smiled.

"Freak's here," Sally Donovan warned. "You the new pathologist?" Molly nodded. "Good luck."

"W—what does she mean?" Molly asked.

"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective; he helps the NSY solve crimes too tricky for them to handle. He's a prodigy but he's the most arrogant arse anyone has ever met," Doctor Lockwood explained. "Not to mention the strange experiments he requires the lab for."

"Oh, I'm sure he's not that bad. I'm sure he has a good heart," Molly spoke softly.

"Whatever you want to believe, kid," he replied before walking away. Molly clenched her fists in frustration. She hated when people treated her like a child just because of her petite stature and gender. Looking at the corpse on the slab, she grabbed the things she needed to perform her first official autopsy at Bart's Hospital.

"Don't," a rich baritone voice commanded. Molly nearly dropped her scalpel. She turned around to face the consulting detective. He looked so…distinguished. The onyx curls and crystalline blue eyes with hints of sea green almost knocked the breath right out of her.

"H-hello. You must be Mr. Holmes," Molly stuttered.

"Just Sherlock, please, Miss Hooper," he replied.

"You know who I am?" she asked, as she was surprised by this development.

"Of course I do. I need to know who I'm working with before I come in, otherwise I'd have to deal with incessant incompetence," Sherlock explained. "I've read some of your work and I must say I'm impressed. Your intelligence is clearly shown in your writings. That is not to be taken lightly. It is not a mere compliment, it is a fact."

"Um, well, thank you," Molly told him. "You wanted to see the body before I started?"

"Yes," he simply responded. She watched as he moved and studied the cadaver before him. "Stop gawking, it distracts me."

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Go ahead," he motioned to her tools after his examination.

"You're not going to tell me anything?" she asked.

"Nope," he replied, popping the 'p.' "How else am I to know you're competent enough to work with me if I give you the answers now?"

"Well, I do see the logic in that," Molly laughed nervously.

"Do I make you anxious?" he questioned, noting the uneasiness in her demeanor.

"Just a bit," she admitted sheepishly. "Are you always this"—she searched for the right word—"intense?"

"Yep," he answered cheekily, flashing a smirk that just about made her heart beat out of her chest. Molly felt her cheeks heat up and she kept berating herself for acting so mousy.

Sherlock looked on as Doctor Hooper performed her autopsy. When she appeared to be finished, he spoke up.

"The verdict, Doctor Hooper?" he inquired.

"Well, it appears to have been set up to look like a suicide," she calmly explained, gesturing towards the cut up wrists. "But the problem here is that there was barely any blood, meaning the victim was dead before the lacerations appeared. I did notice a trace of poison, possibly mixed in with their drink. It's usually unnoticeable."

"I believe we'll be a perfect match, Doctor Hooper," Sherlock grinned. "It's about time someone competent took over the morgue." Molly felt pride surge through her. He wasn't so bad; a bit eccentric, yes, but not as horrible as everyone said he was. The other plus being he didn't treat her like a child, but an equal.

"I'll be coming in the lab tomorrow," he informed her. "Text me when you're present."

"But I don't have your num—" Molly began before he tossed her phone to her. "How did you—"

"Pickpocketed you, put in my number, you're welcome," he told her. "Don't forget, Doctor Hooper, I'm counting on you to be there."

"You can call me Molly," she said with a bit more confidence. He had stopped in the doorway and turned back around to look at her.

"Until tomorrow, Molly Hooper," he offered a small smile before giving her a wink and walking out the door, his Belstaff coat flying behind him.

"Tomorrow," Molly muttered to herself. She wanted to learn more about the mysterious detective. It was a thrilling prospect of her new job; one she didn't anticipate but welcomed with open arms.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** this prompt was chosen by strangelock221b on tumblr (dreamin on here). I hope it lived up to your expectations lol!


	18. Things U Said w 2 Many Miles Between Us

**prompted by writingwife-83!**

 **#15 things you said with too many miles between us.**

* * *

"Do you know when you're going to be back?" Molly asked as Sherlock embraced her.

"Two weeks at least; could be longer," he replied, kissing the top of her head. She pulled back slightly to look up at him. Taking his face in her hands, she rose up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips.

"Be safe," she whispered.

"Promise," Sherlock assured her before heading out the door. He was going on a case that Mycroft had assigned him. John stayed back as he refused to be away from Rosie for that long period of time. Of course Molly was worried about him; she always did when he was sent away for top priority cases such as this.

* * *

Molly lay in bed, completely exhausted, unable to sleep. She hated feeling like this but the simple truth was that she had just grown used to falling asleep with his arms around her. Her phone pinged, lighting up the nightstand. She reached for her phone to check her messages.

 **I know you're awake. Can't sleep? SH**

 **Who are you, Santa Clause? Lol and yes I can't seem to rest. MH**

 **Yes, very funny, Molly. Give me a moment. SH**

It was then her phone began ringing, his name displayed on the screen.

"Hey you," she answered.

"Hello," he replied. Molly could practically hear the smile in his voice.

"All settled for the next two weeks?" she asked him.

"Mm, for the most part. You're lying on my side of the bed," he stated. He was right, of course. It helped to be surrounded by his scent as it still lingered in his pillowcases.

"Good job. What else can you deduce, Mr. Holmes?" Molly smiled.

"You're wearing one of my shirts as a nightdress," he replied cheekily. "I do love seeing you in them."

"Right again. I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight," Molly sighed.

"I'll stay on the phone with you until you fall asleep," Sherlock offered.

"I'd like that," she told him. They had talked about any and everything until Sherlock heard her sleeping breaths through the speaker.

"I love you," he whispered before ending the call.

* * *

A week went by and it felt agonizingly slow for Molly. It was the weekend once again and the work week had exhausted her in every way imaginable. She felt physically drained by the time she settled on her sofa even after the hearty dinner she ate. Her phone pinged with a text.

 **How is my beautiful girlfriend this evening? SH**

Molly smiled at the sweet message.

 **Exhausted lol. I am glad it's the weekend. How's the case going? MH**

 **Fine, I suppose. Though it is interesting, I do not like being away from London so long. SH**

She was typing out her next message when he sent her another one.

 **I don't like being away from you. SH**

She erased her previous draft and typed again.

 **I'm sure you'll solve it in no time. I miss you too. MH**

 **I'll take you out whenever I get back. Anything you want to do, we'll do it. SH**

 **I would love that. Thank you. MH**

 **Would you do me a favour? SH**

 **Anything. MH**

 **Try to relax this weekend. Don't worry so much, I'll be fine. Have fun with John and Rosie or Meena. I know how you allow your overthinking to leave you drained emotionally and mentally. SH**

 **I'll try, I promise. I always worry about you though. MH**

 **I know. SH**

 **I'm gonna try and get some much needed sleep. I love you. Stay safe. MH**

 **Goodnight, darling. I will. I love you too. Very much. SH**

They both slept well that night, comforted by the thought they were both dreaming under the same moon.

* * *

Molly spent Saturday with Meena. They met up for brunch where she tried to pry any relationship details out of the pathologist. Though the questions were met with some resistance, Molly couldn't help but think about how much she missed having girl talk. They finished up their coffees and hailed a cab. Meena spoke quietly to the driver, telling him their next destination.

"Okay, what did you tell him and where are we going?" Molly asked.

"We're going shopping," Meena beamed.

"I really shouldn't," Molly insisted.

"Oh, but you should. You've got yourself a hot date when Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding comes back," Meena laughed. "It's an occasion to get a new outfit for." Molly laughed with her and agreed, remembering what Sherlock told her the night before about having fun this weekend.

* * *

On Sunday, Molly visited John and Rosie and they took a stroll through the park before stopping to purchase some ice lollies. It was a lovely day and Molly always enjoyed spending time with her goddaughter.

"Any idea when he's going to be back?" John asked.

"One more week at the very least," Molly replied. "He was a bit put off about being out of the city for this long."

"Same old Sherlock," John chuckled.

"Mowwy," Rosie called out.

"Hey Rosie! Is that a good ice lolly?" Molly smiled.

"Mmmmm," Rosie replied, sticking it in her mouth, causing John and Molly to laugh.

* * *

By Wednesday, Molly was back to full worry mode. Sherlock hadn't been in touch and though she knew he couldn't on some days, it still bothered her. She walked into the morgue where a new corpse had been covered up on the slab. She tugged on her rubber gloves and began to pull back the sheet, revealing dark curly hair. Panic seized her as she ripped the sheet away, tears falling freely from her eyes. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she discovered it wasn't who she thought it was.

Shutting her eyes tightly, she released a strangled sob. Molly was thanking God that it wasn't Sherlock; that he was still alive out there and he would come home to her this weekend. She quickly pulled herself together to perform the autopsy and clock out. It was her last one before her shift would be up.

* * *

Molly was still visibly shaken when she got home. A clatter in her kitchen put her on high alert as she walked slowly through the room. She silently peered around the corner to find Sherlock. He was home two days early and was cooking; actually cooking. Dropping her bag to the floor, he turned at the sound as she threw her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"I missed you," she cried.

"I missed you too," Sherlock replied, stroking her hair and pulling her closer still. "Molly, what's wrong?" She smiled to herself, knowing that she couldn't keep it from him for long.

"I had a particularly traumatizing autopsy today," she replied, taking a deep breath. The tears started to fall again. "I thought it was you." Molly was sobbing against his chest.

"Shhh, it's okay. I'm here," Sherlock murmured into her hair before pressing a kiss to her head. "I'm here." Molly lifted her head to capture his lips with hers firmly. They touched their foreheads together, small smiles on their faces.

"Thank you for coming home to me," Molly told him, looking into his eyes.

"I will always come home to you," Sherlock replied softly. The timer on the oven went off, startling Molly. "I should probably get that, unless you like your chips extra crispy."

"Best get that now," Molly laughed. Sherlock smiled. He had missed hearing her laugh.

* * *

They ate the fish and chips that Sherlock made them before turning in for the night. It felt nice to be in each other's arms again, comforted by the sound of their steady heartbeats; a strong indicator that they were both very much alive and in love.


	19. Things You Said When Our Baby Was Born

**Author's Note:** Requested by SammyKatz...things you said when you delivered our baby.

* * *

The baby's cries pierced the ears of all who were present. Sherlock still held on tightly to Molly's hand.

"She's beautiful," Molly cooed. Sherlock smiled in agreement as their daughter was taken to be cleaned up.

"You did so well, Molly. I'm so proud of you," Sherlock told her, kissing her damp forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too," Molly said breathily.

* * *

Wrapped up in a soft pink blanket, Charlotte Holmes was being held with such care by her father who sat at his wife's bedside. Molly smiled at her husband with such love in her eyes.

"She has your nose," Sherlock remarked. He took in a deep breath as if he needed to remember to breathe in more oxygen. 'We made her."

"We did," Molly replied. She was tired and sore but it didn't deter her from the first moment of being together as a family. "You needn't worry, love." Sherlock looked up at her. "You're already an amazing father." He placed their daughter in Molly's arms.

"And you're a wonderful mother," Sherlock spoke softly. He caressed her cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to his wife's lips. "I never thought I'd have this." A single tear slipped from his eye. "What did I do to deserve it?"

"Sherlock," Molly whispered his name as if she was caressing it gently with such care. "You deserve it more than you know. Everything; you did everything right. I love you and our daughter loves you."

"I'm the luckiest man in the world to have you," Sherlock told her with a small smile.

* * *

Later on, when Charlotte was taken to stay in the nursery, Molly was attempting to get some rest.

"Sherlock," she whispered.

"Hmm?" he responded.

"Share the bed with me," Molly offered. "Please." He stood and slipped in bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her. She snuggled into him and fell asleep feeling his lips lightly pressed to the back of her neck.


	20. Things You Said On Our Honeymoon

based on these 3 prompts: things you said you loved about me, things you said on our honeymoon and things you said with my lips on your neck.

* * *

Molly let out a playful squeal as Sherlock scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the honeymoon suite. She wrapped her arms around his neck to bring herself close enough to kiss him. They pulled back, their eyes locking with an intensity that filled the room. No words needed to be said, for they had their own language formed by crystalline blue meeting chocolate brown. Their eyes whispered _I love you, I want you, I need you_.

Gently setting his new wife on the bed, kissing her as he followed after, they became lost in one another for hours.

* * *

They lay tangled together, his arms wrapped around her. Molly's back was turned towards him and he was curled around her petite form. She could feel his full lips lingering against the back of her neck.

"I love you so much," Sherlock whispered, pressing his lips more firmly. He then moved to cover her in kisses as he softly spoke of the things he loved about her. "I love your kindness, your bravery, your strength." Molly hummed contentedly as his lips continued to glide across her neck. "I love your intelligence and awful sense of humor." They both chuckled together at that. "But mostly, I love the way you love me; the way you've always loved me."

Molly turned over to have her head resting upon his chest above his steady heartbeat. She wrapped her arms around him and, reaching up, nuzzled her nose against his. He placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose, causing her to scrunch it up.

"I definitely love when you do that," Sherlock laughed. It was Molly's turn to pepper his face and neck with kisses of her own.

"I love your laugh, your eyes and your smile," she told him, trailing her lips from his temple to his jawline. "I love that you possess such a good heart and use your cleverness for good." Sherlock was smiling at her, his eyes holding so much love for her. "I admire your growing strength and your natural curiosity. And of course I, too, love the way you love me." She brought her lips back up to press them against his. She tangled her fingers in his curls as he held her close.

"Want to know what else I love?" Sherlock smirked.

"Hmm?" Molly responded sweetly.

"The way you look at me. You've always seen me for who I really am," he replied. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Well, I love my new surname," Molly smiled.

"I love it too," Sherlock told her tiredly before snuggling up against her as they fell asleep.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** and this completes this collection. I now need to work on a separate prompt and a songfic along with out multi-media Sherlolly projects for the upcoming appreciation week on tumblr. :) simplyshelbs16xoxo is my username! thanks for reading!


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